


Under the Influence

by snarkyscorp



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, general dark subject matter, use of unforgivables
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-07
Updated: 2010-12-07
Packaged: 2017-11-05 20:13:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/410552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkyscorp/pseuds/snarkyscorp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Kiss me," Ginny said. Harry did. "Fuck me," Ginny said. Harry did. "Again," Ginny said. Harry did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under the Influence

  


  
**Under the Influence**   


Ginny shrugged. "I liked it a little."

Harry's blood ran a bit cold, and he felt slightly nauseous. Still, there was that nagging curiosity, poking at the corners of his sanity. "You did? Always?"

"Well, not at first, of course," Ginny said. It was like she could sense his discomfort and wished to ease it by softening the blow of her statements. "It was very intrusive, and I was so young, and Voldemort wasn't exactly someone I wanted to be doing it with."

Harry didn't need to remind her that he remembered better than anybody how old she was and what had been at stake. "When then?" he pressed, watching her eyes. He had learned over the years to read her expressions very well. "When did you start liking being under somebody else's control?"

Ginny pursed her lips in thought and averted her gaze. That was a bad sign. Was she lying? Had she always liked it? Since the moment Tom Riddle possessed her to any number of incidents at Hogwarts under the Carrows' regime to now? Harry couldn't help wondering who in their right mind would ever _want_ such a thing. It disgusted him, how many people he'd seen out of their wits in the war because of this shite, and there was Ginny, a perfectly sane and beautiful woman, mother of three, admitting straight-faced that she got off on being under the Imperius Curse or possessed or whatever it was she was saying that Harry couldn't settle on.

Harry stood to his feet. "You kept this from me?" he growled. "All these years?"

"Easy, Harry," Ginny whispered. "Don't work yourself up. I wasn't keeping anything from you—it's not exactly the sort of thing we've ever discussed in depth." Ginny paused. Harry knew nothing good would come of her tense, worried expression. "You were the one who never wanted to talk about it."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake. You can't blame this on me. I had just _died_ , if you don't recall, and—"

"Of course I remember!" Ginny shouted. The room buzzed with the emotions radiating from that statement. Ginny's eyes hardened, her jaw set and firm. "I of all people remember what you looked like _dead_ , Harry. I was there, too."

It was a bad subject. They never discussed the war, Harry's death, Fred or Tonks or Remus or Snape. These were the names of ghosts and things left in darkened corners. Harry had been the one to say it first— _I don't want to talk about that shite anymore_. It had been the first thing he'd said to Ginny when he saw her after returning the Elder Wand to Dumbledore's grave. Not _I love you_ or _we should talk_ but _I don't want to talk about that shite anymore_ , as if Ginny had ever wanted to either.

Now was different, though. Ginny brought it up. She said she _liked_ being possessed, for Merlin's sake. It was driving Harry up the wall. The conversation veered into untrodden territory, the frightening places Harry could never name out of disgust and fear and sadness.

"Can I at least argue my point?" Ginny asked, taking Harry's hand. She turned it over in her own, stroked the callous skin of his wand-hand's palm, and then leaned down to kiss the pulse point on his wrist. "I'll make it worth your while."

Instead of arousing him, Ginny's usually beautiful wit disturbed Harry.

"I can't talk about this right now," he said. Rising from the bed, Harry left the bedroom, threw on his traveling cloak, and slammed the front door.

~*~

When Harry returned home, it was morning. A cold winter's day, Harry lumbered in through the kitchen, bags under his eyes and ghosts at his heels. It wasn't unusual for his kids to see him entering at this early hour, and he made no excuses.

"Dad, I hate to say it, but you look like shite," James said, sneering. "Don't he, Al?"

Al peered over the top of his coffee mug. "Oh Merlin yeah. I've seen dragon dung that looks prettier."

Lily was the only one who stood up to greet him, a Daddy's girl and just as kind and beautiful as her Mum. The thought of it irked Harry, who nevertheless hugged his daughter when she approached. He just wished she looked like somebody else when he was angry at Ginny.

"All right, Dad?" she asked. "You do look a bit off."

"Fine," Harry said stiffly. His children knew better than to delve.

It was then that Ginny walked in, still in her dressing gown with her hair a tangled mess and her eyes puffy. The sight of her made Harry's guilt multiply. He'd worried her. Of course, he'd worried her.

"I'll make waffles," Harry offered, giving Ginny's hand a squeeze when he passed and hoping that alone would do for the moment.

Breakfast went by in a flash. The kids, out of Hogwarts until the new year and with lives to attend to, emptied out quickly. Then, there was only Harry and Ginny and the matter of resolving what transpired the night before.

~*~

"I want you to explain," Harry said. He had thought a great deal about Ginny's statements from the previous night, and he wanted to know more, needed to find out why she liked it and why she hadn't told him and how it could even be true in the first place, given all they'd been through.

"It's a release," Ginny said. "Plain and simple. I know it's _not_ simple, Harry, don't give me that look."

Harry threw his hands up, then dragged them through his hair. "I just don't understand."

Ginny hesitated. Then, she reached out and held his face in her warm, soft hands. "Let me show you."

Recoiling, Harry shook his face free. He immediately regretted the action—Ginny was only doing what he asked her to do, and he wasn't even giving her a fair chance. "Sorry," he muttered, taking her hands. "But it…terrifies me."

"Do you trust me?" she asked, not quite smiling but the sentiment was there nonetheless.

"Yes." There was no need to hesitate on that answer. It wasn't even a question. "But—"

"If you trust me, then you know I would never, ever hurt you." Ginny squeezed his hands, then leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth, a promise of what could come after if Harry wanted. "Do you trust me, Harry? Really, truly trust me?"

Harry nodded. Of course he did. He had spent half his life with her. Ginny knew more about him than anybody. Her early jealousy of his relationship with Ron and Hermione had ceased a few years into their marriage, when Harry began to share the same things with her. They would never go through the same experiences, but Ginny didn't need that to love him and he didn't need it to love and trust her in return.

"Can I show you, then?" she asked, reaching for her wand, which lay on the bedside table.

The sight of it curled in her fist, the knowledge of what she wanted to show him, both terrified and aroused Harry. He knew what he should do, what Ginny wanted him to do, and what he never allowed himself to want.

"Yeah," he said and met her gaze as she pointed her wand at his heart.

" _Imperio_ ," Ginny said, breathlessly, whispered with all her love.

The sensation of not trying to resist the curse left Harry winded in a different way. He was conscious but not, his vision dulled and muted, his limbs tingling and cold. His heart slowed its beating. It was like being dead, he thought. No control over anything. No reason to want control. No responsibilities or worries or papers filling his desk at the Ministry. No children, no wife, no hero complex, no ghosts of loved ones filling his aching, broken heart.

There was only Ginny. Nobody else. Nothing else. Just Ginny and Ginny and Ginny.

"Kiss me," Ginny said.

Harry did.

"Fuck me," Ginny said.

Harry did.

"Again," Ginny said.

Harry did.

When the spell released, Harry dropped to his knees. Ginny was there beside him, comforting and solid, gripping his shoulders and touching his cheeks, but Harry was too overwhelmed, too exhausted to thank her for showing him what it was like to lose everything and come back wanting more.

Harry had never let anybody control him, had never let himself be controllable and weak. It was freeing to feel that. It was addictive. He knew he would do it again.


End file.
